


Sunday Night Lights

by queensmooting



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Football, Fluff, M/M, fluuuuuuuuuuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensmooting/pseuds/queensmooting
Summary: Erwin Smith is a star quarterback, winning over fans around the country. Despite this, he has a harder time winning over a certain cameraman he meets at his home stadium.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a football au for my amazing talented fantastic friend & angle brooke ([god](http://www.goddamnchou.tumblr.com))[damnchou](http://www.twitter.com/damnchou)!!! <3 
> 
> with apologies to everyone else on the planet
> 
> also brief hange/petra on the side jsyk.  
> & since this is ooc for me i'll mention again this is RATED EXPLICIT NSFW WEE WOO !!!!!!!!!

Levi lowers the camera. “I think you made old Coach Shadis shit his pants.”

 

“Not my fault he cut that win so close.” Hange shrugs, briefly takes their headset off to shake their hair loose. “Guess we just need to get Smith and we’re done.”

 

Levi waits until the camera is a familiar weight hoisted to his shoulder before sighing. Then he follows Hange to their last post-game interview.

 

He likes his job, he does. Being a sports cameraman wasn’t something he dreamed about growing up, so it surprised him how well he took to the work. It requires a presence of mind and body that keeps him sharp. It provides him a weekly challenge in the form of dodging six-and-a-half-foot football players barreling out of bounds toward him and his expensive equipment. His size allows him to be exceptionally limber, his camerawork gets millions of views every Sunday, and he’d never complain about his spacious apartment.

 

What he isn’t is particularly social. Levi leaves that to Hange, who bounds up to the winning quarterback now, their demanding microphone in hand. Levi resumes recording.

 

“Not a bad way to start a new season, huh?” Hange says.

 

“Not bad at all,” Erwin replies.

 

Erwin Smith is a star if there ever was one, and Levi prefers to not deal with the stars. Erwin smiles handsomely at Hange’s questions, answers thoughtfully, and even manages to work in a few friendly pats on the shoulder. _Tool_ , Levi thinks for some reason.

 

“Now this is isn’t just the first game of the season for you,” Hange says. “It’s the first on a new team, in front of new fans. How does it feel?”

 

“Well, I can tell you, these fans have been astounding.” The flocks of fans congregated near the bottom of the stands erupt in cheers. Erwin laughs almost bashfully, scratching his neck. “This is for them, and I hope I can keep earning their respect throughout the season.”

 

“I have no doubt you will,” Hange says. “Have a great season.”

 

“Thanks, Hange.”

 

“Thank  _ you _ .” Hange looks at the camera as Erwin heads off for the locker room. “Back to you, Tom.”

 

Levi waits for the signal, then cuts. “We done?”

 

Hange emphatically switches off their microphone. “Let’s go.”

 

*

 

Levi gets home in time for his bi-weekly call with his mother, who’s a far bigger sports fan than he is.

 

“I couldn’t believe it,” she says, still disgruntled. “You got a clear shot of the pass interference and they didn’t call it. If the refs would get off their knees and stop blowing the game--”

 

“Your team still won, Mom,” he reminds her, fighting a smile even when there was no one to hide from.

 

“It’s the principle of it!” she exclaims, voice suddenly fading like she’d flung out her arms.

 

Levi makes himself comfortable in his apartment while he keeps the phone tucked at his ear. He listens to his mother’s Rosh Hashanah plans as he heats up leftovers in a pan, then settles on the couch to hear about his uncle’s latest exploits. His apartment is a bit roomy for one but he likes it, feels content with the amenities he needs to get by and the company of his mother’s voice in his ear.

 

Until a beeping cuts her off. He glances at the screen.

 

“Shit, Hange’s calling. Can I talk to you tomorrow?”

 

“Sure hon. Tell them hi for me. And tell them to go to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

 

“Three a.m. it is,” Levi says. He switches callers.

 

“Guess wha-at,” Hange says in a sing-song voice that makes Levi at least ninety-eight percent sure he’s not going to like this.

 

“Wha-at?”

 

“I’ve got good news.”

 

Make that ninety-nine. “What?”

 

“We scored an exclusive interview with Erwin Smith, one of those behind the scenes player access things.”

 

“Yeah, I know, I’ve shot one for that fuckhead from New England. Not real thrilled about repeating the experience.”

 

“Oh c’mon, I know you can’t think Smith’s as bad as him.”

 

Levi sighs and it takes a lot out of him. Mostly pride. “No, I don’t.”

 

“Great! So I’ll send you over the scheduling, looks like we’ll be doing a few sit-down sessions, then following him at practice, that kind of thing.”

 

If Levi had to name a best friend, he’d say it was Hange. But tonight there’s something in the pep of their voice that reminds him how suddenly tired he is.

 

“Cool,” Levi says around a conspicuous yawn.

 

“Oh, sorry, I’ll let you go,” Hange says. “Petra’s giving me that face that I know you’re making right now. I swear to God you and my wife were separated at birth.”

 

Levi hangs up and thinks about this. He loves capturing the moment a field goal clears the post, the subtleties in the making of a penalty. Working with multi-millionaire players and coaches is no less a part of the job, but never the most desired for him.

 

Levi thinks this calls for another drink.

 

*

 

Summer stays a little longer this year. The air’s already at a light simmer when Levi and Hange arrive at the training field near dawn. Levi feels sluggish and heavy with the morning but the work is routine. They begin shooting practice film and a few interviews with team members to go along with the interview package. 

 

The sky bleeds from rose to gold to blue-grey before the team takes a break, and Hange hustles to get a few words with Erwin. They go over routines and how he’s adjusting to a new team. It’s mostly small talk but Hange knows what the viewers like.

 

Then Hange goes to talk to their boom mic operator. Levi watches Erwin, still hovering near him. There’s a gravity in his sharp face that makes him seem older than mid-twenties. Erwin’s lips are shifting, just barely, with memorized numbers and team formations he can’t seem to stop reciting in his head. Levi wonders if he ever sleeps. 

 

“You seem nervous,” Levi says. The camera is off but he fiddles with the zoom as Erwin looks at him, not offended but curious. “Don’t worry, no one else can tell. It’s my job to be observant.”

 

“I thought it was Hange Zoe who asked all the questions?” Erwin grins, like that was supposed to charm him. “What’s your name?”

 

“Levi. Who are you again?”

 

Erwin, bless him, actually answers before he sees the look on Levi’s face. He doesn’t comment on Levi’s question. 

 

“Well, you shouldn’t be nervous,” Levi says, shrugging. “From what I’ve heard so far your team loves you. Especially that left tackle of yours. Zacharius? Hange’s pretty sure he shit himself talking about how glad he was you got traded here.”

 

Erwin’s mouth is just slack enough for a hint of even teeth, his eyes round. For the first time Levi notices their color. Erwin looks like he’s about to say something when Shadis’s whistle cuts through the muggy air.

 

He glances at the field, then back at Levi. He extends his arm like he’s about to give Levi a friendly slap on the back, then thinks better of it, curling his fingers. The pink flush tracing Erwin’s cheekbones could be exertion, could be embarrassment, could be Levi’s sun-fried imagination.

 

“Force of habit,” Erwin says apologetically. “Thank you. I’ll--see you around.”

 

He waves before shoving his helmet back on, jogging onto the grass. 

 

Levi’s still thinking about the color of his eyes, and that leaves him unreasonably irked for the rest of the day. 

 

*

 

The team is on the road next week and Levi spends his day off at Hange’s house. Hange and their twins are outside chasing each other with the garden hose, and Levi’s found a spot on the couch with Petra, who has the game on in the background. Levi enjoys photography and normally he’d be outside with the rest of them, taking pictures, but today the thought of moving is agonizing.

 

“Looks even more miserable in Florida than here,” Levi says, noting the sweaty-faced players trying to stay cool on the sidelines.

 

“God, you know what makes me feel old?” Petra sighs.

 

“Um. You’re twenty-eight but okay, shoot.”

 

“Sitting here, drinking mimosas with you and talking about the weather, my spouse running around with the kids. All we need is for you to land a man to officially make us a boring group.”

 

“All you have to eat is tortilla chips and Rice Krispies,” Levi says, gesturing toward the coffee table. “You’re already boring.”

 

Levi’s eyes drift back to the screen. Erwin’s on the sidelines squeezing bottled Gatorade into his mouth, head tipped back and throat bobbing. He can’t seem to resist dumping a little on the top of his head, running his taped fingers through damp hair sticking up in every direction.

 

“Now that’s just unnecessary,” Levi mumbles.

 

“What’s unnecessary?” Petra asks.

 

“Nothing.” 

 

He sips his mimosa moodily as the screen continues to linger on Erwin in all his sweaty, red-cheeked glory. Levi hopes whoever’s operating this camera in Florida isn’t being paid more than him.

 

*

 

“You should shake his hand when he gets here,” Hange says. “You won’t believe how big his hands are.”

 

“Mm hm,” Levi says, preoccupied with setting up equipment and holding no plans to shake anyone’s hand.

 

Erwin shows up for the first sit-down interview in a suit and tie, hair neatly combed away from his face. Hange whistles and immediately chats him up, trying to get him comfortable before they begin.

 

“You look different,” Levi comments when Erwin finally takes a seat in front of the cameras.

 

Erwin glances up but Levi doesn’t meet his eyes, double-checking his tapes.

 

“Without the helmet hair.” Levi waves vaguely at his own skull. “It looks…”

 

“Awful?” Erwin asks.

 

“No,” Levi says a little too quickly, only catching the teasing lift in Erwin’s voice a moment later. “Just, different.”

 

“Alright,” Erwin says, a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

 

For the first sit-down Hange rehashes one of the narratives surrounding Erwin in the press. It’s his third full season in the pros, his first on a new team after being traded at the end of last year. He’s been facing media scrutiny since he came out as one of a few bisexual football players last season. The pressure became intensified, with every loss cause for greater scrutiny. Levi feels a strong wave of sympathy. He doesn’t envy Erwin the expectations stacked upon him, and he doesn’t blame Erwin when he says he avoids news about him as much as possible. To lighten the mood Hange brings up his newfound success on a new team.

 

In the mood shift Erwin sweeps a hand through his hair. A lock of hair springs free, hanging loose over his forehead. The touch of disarray in the put-together package of him sends Levi’s thoughts soaring away from professionalism. Only for a second.

 

“Cut it,” Hange’s makeup artist mutters, and strolls out to Erwin. She spends a minute fixing his hair and Levi spends a minute not thinking about how thick his hair looks while fingers are running through it, how soft. Levi can hardly concentrate on a word they say for the rest of the session.

 

When it’s over Erwin stands and shakes Hange’s hand, then Levi’s. His hand feels small and soft in Erwin’s grip, but no less strong. The half-second of eye contact sticks in Levi’s head for the rest of the day.

 

“Woo wee, does he have big hands,” Hange says.

 

“You have to if you’re gonna be a damn quarterback,” Levi says, rolling his eyes like he isn’t still thinking about it.

 

*

 

He manages to stay in denial about his burgeoning problem for a commendable amount of time. Levi stays focused on the technical, his eye on the screens and Hange’s cues in his headset. Physically Erwin may be his type, but in Levi’s experience the same type would turn out to be messy, unreliable, and Levi wasn’t about to waste any time pining over someone who was featured in every magazine’s most eligible list. 

 

So everything was going fine. Then Erwin had to go and ruin it.

 

“Thanks for everything today,” he says after their next sit-down interview, shaking their hands (and isn’t he annoying, when it should be them thanking him for  _ his  _ time). “Hey, do you two wanna get drinks?”

 

“Absolutely!” Hange blurts as Levi manages a “Huh?”

 

*

 

Levi blames Hange for talking him into it. Mostly no one bothers them at the bar, though a few college-age kids are brave enough to ask Erwin for a picture, and there’s even an older man who asks for Hange’s autograph.

 

“Must be nice to be the one behind the camera,” Hange says.

 

Levi shrugs, but it is occasions like these that make him more thankful than ever for his anonymity.

 

“You’re agile,” Erwin says, and Levi wonders if he imagines the way his eyes make a quick scan of his body. “I’ve never seen you get run over like the other cameramen. You used to be a gymnast or something?”

 

“Actually, he played football,” Hange says, nudging Levi with their elbow.

 

“Uh, yeah. I was a tight end in high school.”

 

“No kidding,” Erwin says. “I bet you were great.”

 

Levi snorts. “I had to be. Something had to shut up the dumbasses who thought I looked hilarious out there. Can you believe I was even shorter in high school?”

 

A laugh flits over Erwin’s face, one he immediately replaces with a look of deepest gravity. Levi makes a point of scratching his cheek to hide his own smile.

 

Hange glances between them, smirking, then stands abruptly. “This is my song, I’m gonna hit the floor. See you two later.”

 

Levi reaches out but can’t catch their wrist before they’re gone in the mix of bodies.

 

“‘Paradise City’ is their song?” Erwin says.

 

“Uh,” Levi says, still floundering at being abandoned.

 

He braces for the descent of awkward silence but Erwin hardly misses a beat.

 

“So Levi. What do you like to do?”

 

“Do?”

 

“You must know everything about me at this point but I hardly know anything about you.”

 

“Well, I don’t have my own Wikipedia page.”

 

Erwin laughs and it feels like praise, knocking Levi’s heart into a quicker beat.

 

“Okay. What do you want to know about me?”

 

“Anything. Everything,” Erwin says, so open and honest Levi has to look away.

 

“Um, well. I go walking around the lake sometimes, take some of my own pictures.”

 

“The quiet must be a nice change from the stadium,” Erwin says.

 

Levi almost smiles again. It’s like Erwin gets it, like he gets him.

 

It gets easier from there, Levi telling Erwin about his photography and his mother and his friendship with Hange, who still hasn’t returned from the dance floor. Levi loses count after five songs, and somewhere in the music and the drinks and Erwin’s generous interest, he loses the threads of his self-consciousness, too.

 

*

 

Four weeks into the season, summer abruptly drains from the city, like somewhere a plug’s been pulled. Practices are moved indoors. Rain hammers on the steel roof like crowd noise. It’s the final shooting day before Levi turns in his footage for editing, and he tries not to think that it’s also the last day he’ll have an excuse to talk up-close with Erwin. He tells himself it doesn’t matter. It’s only a job.

 

Practice wraps up and they pack their equipment, Hange distantly talking about their next assignment. Levi notices Erwin lingering and so he lingers too, waiting until they have a little more privacy to talk.

 

“Got everything, then?” Erwin asks, slowly coming toward Levi, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

 

“Mm hm.” Levi zips his last bag. “Tomorrow we’re gonna start getting footage for the start of basketball season.”

 

“Ah. Well. I’ll still see you around, of course. And you’ll keep in touch?”

 

Erwin doesn’t bother to hide the threads of disappointment in his voice, and Levi appreciates that. They’ve been texting regularly since having drinks together, mostly small check-ins and little personal stories as they come to mind. Nothing earth-shattering, but it doesn’t stop Levi from staying awake longer than he usually does, scrolling through their messages with a flutter in his gut. 

 

“Erwin, I really like you.”

 

Levi doesn’t realize how it sounds until after he says it, grouchy with a heave of a sigh, but he thinks this is heading somewhere and he’s sure Erwin feels the same way. Near sure.

 

Erwin's laugh is breathy. “You’re the only person I know who could make that sound like a bad thing.”

 

For all his on-camera charisma, for all that he’s a stunning six-foot-two superstar, Erwin looks devastatingly shy when he says, “I really like you, too.”

 

“Okay,” Levi says, heart racing fast down to the skin of his palms. “So that’s settled.”

 

“So it is.” Erwin’s smile is wide, almost giddy. “Are you free Tuesday night?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Dinner?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You’re sure? Really sure?”

 

“Yes, Jesus, you trying to make me change my mind or--”

 

Erwin glances carefully around the practice field. There’s only a few people left, all preoccupied. Levi’s just about to ask what he’s looking for when Erwin takes his hand, guiding them both behind a column.

 

“What are you doing?” Levi whispers, not sure why he’s whispering other than it feels like they’re sneaking around.

 

“I was thinking I might kiss you,” Erwin says. “If that’s alright.”

 

“Oh,” Levi says, mouth abruptly going dry. “As long as Hange isn’t looking. I’d never hear the end of it.”

 

Erwin does kiss him, and it’s just fantastic enough that Levi’s already counting the half-seconds until Tuesday.

 

*

 

The taped special with Erwin airs halfway through the season. This is the day Erwin comes over to Levi’s apartment for the first time, a few dates down the line. Levi answers the door in his nicest dress shirt and slacks to see Erwin in jeans, a T-shirt, and a face still dewy from the showers.

 

“Oh, right,” Levi says. “You just got out of practice. Now I look like an overdressed asshole.”

 

“No, I like it. You look very cu--distinguished,” Erwin corrects quickly under Levi’s glare.

 

They eat dinner on the couch with the local news on. Levi forgets to feel awkward between their playful conversation and their silences free of pressure. It isn’t until the special begins playing on TV that Levi thinks anything is wrong.

 

“Don’t like seeing yourself on screen?” Levi asks when Erwin cringes in the corner of his eye.

 

“It never gets less strange,” Erwin says. 

 

There’s a lift at the end of his sentence like he wants to say more. Levi waits.

 

“I don’t know,” Erwin says, voice quiet. “Whenever I see me like that it reminds me that I expect more for myself. For the team, for the fans, for my dad…”

 

“Your dad?”

 

Erwin nods, then turns his body toward him. His gaze lands somewhere around Levi’s ear, where he tucks a piece of hair, sending a small ripple of a shiver across Levi’s scalp.

 

“I never talk about him in public. I want to make him proud but it’s hard to know what he’d even want me to do. He died when I was very young.”

 

Levi lets the information sink in, tries to find something more productive than  _ I’m sorry _ to offer in return.

 

“If your dad was anything like my mom is,” Levi says, “I imagine he’d just want to see you happy.” Erwin doesn’t respond immediately, and a thought occurs to Levi. “If you don’t talk about him, why are you telling me now?”

 

A faint bloom of pink appears on the skin under the blonde fringes of Erwin’s hair. “You really struck me the first day we spoke. When you told me how my teammates felt, when you reassured me. I thought, here’s someone I can trust.”

 

Levi fidgets, his mouth forming a silent  _ oh _ . He hadn’t realized. The silence between them now feels just as comfortable as before, but it’s somehow even warmer.

 

“Are you?” Levi asks after a while.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Happy. Are you happy?”

 

Erwin thinks for a moment, then says, “I love what I do.” A smile softens every inch of his face as he takes in Levi’s. “Yes, I’m happy.”

 

*

 

Dating Erwin doesn’t affect his job, mostly. Sometimes Erwin is a little slow to get up after a tackle and Levi has to swallow the urge to go check on him, or else murder the opposing team. But otherwise things are much the same. He shows up, he records, he leaves.

 

Levi’s never considered the slow mechanics of letting another person into his life. In the weeks leading up to the postseason they manage to steal more pieces of time together. There’s someone to wash the dishes after dinner and longer nights spent on the phone when Erwin has a road game. Erwin’s a busy man but he likes to see Levi when he’s not at practice or a press conference or anything else.

 

Levi notices the change more when he’s alone. It’s easier to notice the vacancy in the passenger seat of his car, the hums and creaks of appliances when it’s just him at home. These things become less tolerable over the weeks. 

 

For the most part Levi’s job doesn’t change. His personal world, he supposes,  is slightly more affected.

 

*

 

Levi’s mother calls one morning when she sees pictures of him and Erwin holding hands on Twitter. It’s there under a photoset of Hange’s twins they posted earlier. Levi’s almost offended that Sasha and Connie have garnered twice as many retweets, but Petra is a far better photographer than whichever fan was hiding in the bushes outside the stadium last night.

 

Levi drums his fingers against the table. He’s surprised how okay he is with this.

 

He texts Erwin a link and adds,  _ You don’t have any bad angles. It’s so unfair _ .

 

A few minutes later Erwin calls.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says in a rush. “I had no idea, I didn’t want to put you in a spotlight like this, I can have it taken down and--”

 

“Erwin. Relax. I know you deal with this shit all the time. As long as these people aren’t coming anywhere near where we live I can deal. Besides, it’s not like I’m famous or anything myself. No one’s gonna care who I am.”

 

“So you’re okay?”

 

Levi smiles, holds the phone a little closer to his ear in fondness. “Yeah, it’s fine. My mom’s over the damn moon about it, I think she thought I was lying about you this entire time. You’re still on for an Ackerman family Hanukkah, right?”

 

“Something tells me I better be.”

 

Levi's phone starts beeping anxiously, and he doesn't have to look to know it's Hange, ready to crow.

 

"I gotta take this," he says.

 

*

 

December settles in a sudden icy snap when Hanukkah arrives. Levi pulls up to his mother’s house behind a green pickup truck parked on the street, beaten to hell and back and complete with Yosemite Sam mudflaps.

 

“I just remembered something,” Levi says, slapping his forehead with the heel of his sweating palm. “Hanukkah ended last week. Damn, guess we’ll have to try again another time.”

 

Erwin raises his eyebrows, not fooled. “I thought you were looking forward to me meeting your mom?”

 

“Yeah, well. Wanna grab some Italian? You always need your carbs--”

 

Levi reaches for the gearshift and Erwin laughs, gently catching his wrist.

 

“C’mon, what’s wrong?”

 

What’s wrong is Kuchel neglected to warn Levi his uncle Kenny would be at dinner. He’s on the couch in front of the TV, arm slung across the back behind his husband Uri, but the second the door opens he sits up and points at Erwin.

 

“Good, you’re here,” Kenny grunts. “We need to have a talk.”

 

“He means it’s nice to meet you,” Uri says. It’s then Levi notices his other uncle’s wearing a garish sweater adorned with knitted dreidels. 

 

“I said what I said,” Kenny says. “Sit down, son. We’re gonna discuss your game management.”

 

Erwin turns toward Levi as he takes off his coat, eyes wide and pleading. Levi shakes his head, fresh out of sympathy. 

 

“You asked for this,” he says, patting Erwin on the shoulder.

 

As Erwin’s being interrogated Levi finds his mother in the kitchen amid a warm golden smell and the sizzle of fry pans.

 

“Hi, hon!” His mother hurries to hug him but he can feel her trying to get a glimpse over his shoulder into the living room.

 

“Yes, he’s here,” Levi says. “Yes, he’s real.”

 

“I never said he wasn’t,” his mother says innocently.

 

“Mom.” Levi places his hands on her shoulders. It’s lucky they’re of a height. “You’ll be cool, right?”

 

“When have I not been cool?” 

 

She pats his cheek and leaves for the dining room.

 

Levi’s arranging a plate of sufganiyot when he hears his mother ask, “So, Erwin, do you like kids?”

 

“ _ Mom! _ ”

 

Erwin delights in Kuchel’s fried dinner, calling it a welcome break from his strict diet. He quietly respects the blessings and afterward he plays games on the floor with Levi’s little cousin, Mikasa, who arrives with her parents after dinner. He even holds his own with Kenny, who drags him into a forty-eight minute long conversation about, as Kenny calls them, “candy-ass college football regulations.”

 

There’s a moment when the candlelight is soft and his body is full and every blink pulls his eyes toward sleep. In that moment his mother meets his gaze. She looks so happy for him Levi can hardly stand it. He wants to be embarrassed. He just feels good.

 

He glances down at Erwin, who’s listening with attentive eyes as Mikasa tells him a story. Even with Kenny mumbling threats about busting out Levi’s baby pictures, everything feels right.

 

*

 

“Sorry that went so late,” Levi says. “I know you gotta be up early.”

 

They’re walking from Levi’s car to Erwin’s front door, fingers linked loosely between them. The cliche of it all hits him at once, reddens the tips of his ears. It’s even started snowing. He almost laughs at that, but the snow shimmers against the gold of Erwin’s hair and the glow of his skin, and it shuts Levi up.

 

“I wish I could’ve stayed longer,” Erwin says. “I had a great time. Your family is delightful.”

 

Levi snorts so loud he claps a hand over his mouth.

 

“Really!”

 

“Even old Uncle Kenny?”

 

Erwin pauses for a half-second too long. “He’s certainly not boring.”

 

“Yeah, well. You survived. I’m proud of you.”

 

They stop outside the door, Erwin leaning against it and pulling Levi close, out of sight from the street.

 

“I wish I could invite you in,” Erwin says, low and half-muffled against Levi’s hair. “I know you have an early day, too.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Erwin’s hands drift down to his waist and Levi leans up to kiss him. It’s too slow to get worked up at all, but Levi still doesn’t want it to end. 

 

*

 

There are lots of moments now Levi doesn’t want to end. There’s the games when Erwin will throw a touchdown pass and in the midst of celebration he’ll look behind Levi’s camera, a smile under his face mask. There’s the rare mornings they have to laze around in Levi’s bed, talking about nothing in particular and sometimes not talking at all. There was the quiet Wednesday night Erwin asked to see some of Levi’s photography, and hugged him close with pride. 

 

Even as the season draws closer to an end it feels like so much more is just beginning.

 

*

 

Erwin invites Levi to his place for the first time when his bye week starts. 

 

“It’s. Smaller than I expected. This all five million a year buys you?”

 

“I’m just one person, Levi,” Erwin says. “Who needs all the space?”

 

He’s smiling, sliding Levi’s coat off his shoulders and going to hang it up. Levi takes the opportunity to peek his head down the hall, into the one sparsely-decorated bedroom and single bathroom. The place barely looks lived in, like a model showroom, but it’s cleaner than Levi’s expecting.

 

They make dinner together and Erwin comments that it makes the place feel homier. Levi, having peeked into Erwin’s pantry, comments that anything is homier than Hot Pockets.

 

Erwin insists on cleaning up after. When he’s done he brushes Levi’s elbow with his fingertips on his way out of the kitchen. Levi catches his hand, stops him, pulls him back in a slow reel. Erwin catalogs the change on Levi’s face, adjusts by linking their fingers.

 

Erwin eases forward, following the tiniest tug at their joined hands. His smile is soft and it’s so easy for Levi to answer with one of his own. Erwin leans down to kiss Levi chastely and Levi grabs him behind the neck to hold him close. Finally Erwin picks up on his intentions. He opens his mouth, deepens the kiss, nudges Levi until they’re nestled against the door frame of the kitchen.

 

After a few minutes Levi can’t get enough air and lets his head fall back against the frame. Erwin presses closer, nosing at Levi’s jaw until he has room to kiss at his neck. Levi pets the thick strands of Erwin’s hair, encouraging him.

 

“Think I saw a bedroom,” Levi breathes. His hand tightens in Erwin’s hair when he sucks just below Levi’s ear.

 

“Did you?” Erwin says. “These modern interior designers think of everything, don’t they.”

 

Something fantastically clever slips away from Levi’s tongue when the tips of Erwin’s fingers find skin under Levi’s shirt. 

 

“Come on,” Levi says, seizing Erwin’s wrist and dragging him along.

 

Erwin’s bed is soft and his hands are warm. Once they’re situated, Levi half lying on top, he loses track of time. He’s adrift in the way Erwin kisses him deeply and trails his fingers up and down Levi’s back, the smell of him all around. Levi’s torn between the lazy feeling of this and the ache between his legs. They let several more minutes go by before Levi takes action.

 

“Feel up to fucking me, or are you going to sleep down there?”

 

At that Erwin smiles and bites at Levi’s lips, his hips shifting to rock against Levi’s thigh. Now Levi can feel how hard he is and it goes to his head, stealing his breath.

 

Erwin gets up long enough to fetch lube and a condom, long enough for Levi to pull off his jeans and leave them folded on the floor. When Erwin returns Levi pulls him close by his belt loops, kissing him deep before pushing his pants down over his hips. Erwin leaves them in a heap on the ground and kneels down, gently nudging Levi to his back with a hand splayed on his chest. The same hand takes its time trailing down over Levi’s abdomen, feeling every inch of muscle, and Levi’s breath quickens.

 

Erwin takes hold of Levi’s thighs and pulls him toward the edge of the bed, pressing light kisses to the inside of his knee. Levi’s already squirming in his grip, wondering how long he can stand this slow pace.

 

His kisses turn wet high on the inside of Levi’s thigh, sucking small marks so close to his cock it’s all Levi can do not to kick Erwin in the head. He settles for threading through Erwin’s hair with one hand, clawing at his shoulder with the other. It isn’t until Erwin finally teases a slicked-up finger inside him that Levi’s hands relax, his mouth opening in a soft sigh. Erwin takes it as encouragement, stroking him until he’s loose enough to work a second finger in.

 

“Is this alright?” he murmurs, watching Levi’s face with concern.

 

“God, yes, you can go faster.”

 

Erwin continues to work into him at his own pace, distracting Levi with his mouth until he’s floating on three fingers, lip bitten red to keep from whimpering.

 

“Does this feel good?” Erwin asks, with less hesitancy than before.

 

“Yes, shit,” Levi manages. He already sounds wrecked, his ears going red. “This is good, you’re so--”

 

He gasps when Erwin curls his fingers. Then Erwin licks up his cock, taking it into his mouth, and Levi’s throat constricts around a sound. His vision goes blurry so suddenly it takes every atom of effort not to come right there.

 

“Shit shit shit, stop.”

 

“Are you okay?” Erwin asks, pulling out immediately. 

 

Levi pants a laugh. “Holy fuck. Just get up here with me.”

 

Levi maneuvers Erwin to lie on his back on the pillows, taking charge. When he’s ready he sinks down slowly, relishing the drop of Erwin’s jaw, the low growl in his throat, the way his hands squeeze at Levi’s waist like he’s trying not to thrust up all at once. 

 

Levi sets a leisurely pace that Erwin matches after a minute, slow rolling thrusts that set every one of Levi’s nerves warm and electric. He braces his hands on Erwin’s chest and Erwin can’t keep his own hands still, roaming them across Levi’s stomach and all over his legs.

 

They’re like this for a few steady minutes, Erwin’s gaze open and awed and Levi can’t look away. It’s never been like this before, all eyes and trust and bliss. He gets caught up in the swell of feeling, and on one long stroke Levi reaches behind him, slides his fingertips up Erwin’s cock to where they’re joined. Erwin gasps, twitches inside him, and the warmth in his thighs curls into an urgent heat. Levi removes his hand to touch himself instead and Erwin sits up, holding him closer.

 

Their faces are an inch apart and it’s so much, so intimate, that Levi can’t hold back any longer. He grinds down hard until he comes on himself, limbs shaking with release, only Erwin keeping him from falling backward. Erwin shudders when Levi tightens around him, driving up into him faster. Still coming down from his orgasm Levi leans against Erwin’s shoulder, whispering encouragement, biting his lip when Erwin’s hands grip at his waist, palms wide and warm.

 

Erwin comes soon after, sighing low, arms trembling as he jolts and slows. He nuzzles against Levi’s neck and strokes his back, then lowers him to the bed a moment later. Levi, warm and content, is just beginning to remember the mess on his stomach when he feels a soft cloth wiping him down. When Erwin finishes he shuffles up to lay at Levi’s side, pulling him close. They talk through the press of their foreheads together, the trail of fingertips across the planes of each other’s faces, the lazy kisses that drift off into lazier smiles.

 

Erwin falls asleep first. The moon slices through the room in a way that allows Levi to take careful note of the long hook of Erwin’s nose, the thin white-gold scar disappearing into his eyebrow. Levi runs his finger along it and feels his heart in his throat.

 

*

 

In the morning Levi’s going through Erwin’s closet, frowning at a row of clean button-ups.

 

“Why don’t you keep any of your jerseys here?” Levi asks.

 

“Easier to keep all my things in the locker room.” Erwin rolls over in bed behind him. “Why, would you like one?”

 

“ _ No _ ,” Levi says emphatically. “God, we’re not in high school. You gonna offer me your letterman jacket next?”

 

“It is in there somewhere.”

 

Levi looks back at the closet a little too quickly. To cover for himself he pulls his own shirt back over his head and assures himself it’s not with a sense of resignation.

 

Levi turns and devotes a moment to the sight of Erwin stretching his unusually messy head toward shafts of morning light, strong legs tangled in the sheets like he’s been stitched into the bed. 

 

“You really don’t have anywhere to be today?” Levi asks.

 

Erwin shakes his head, blinks just as slowly. “Nowhere but here.”

 

So Levi rejoins him, weaving himself into the warmth of the blankets and Erwin. This time Levi takes Erwin, eases him open and enters him gently with their fingers entwined, both of them still languid from sleep. Afterward they eat slices of cinnamon toast off napkins in bed, Levi watching the linens closely for crumbs. 

 

The pieces of domesticity are unfamiliar to Levi, like he’s seeing a reel of someone else’s life. When he leans his head against Erwin’s side it feels experimental, and the clean hand Erwin raises to Levi’s head feels a bit unsteady before finding a rhythm in his hair. Levi thinks he’s not the only one figuring it out as he goes along.

 

He smiles, wipes his fingers on the napkin.

 

Later he wears Erwin’s old letterman jacket around the apartment. Only because it’s so warm.

 

*

 

Shortly after they return to work the team makes the playoffs. Levi’s busy putting together player profiles with Hange, and Erwin’s at practice twice as often, and they only really see each other a few minutes a day. But it works, and that’s the thing. Levi’s never had it work before.

 

In between interviews and re-shoots and fielding Hange’s calls, Levi finds himself picturing his life with someone else in it. He’s never minded being alone but there’s something different about the times he’s with Erwin, how the seconds seems to still and move too fast all at once. 

 

He’s never known anyone like Erwin, who shows genuine curiosity of all of Levi’s interests. Who makes even a casual kiss meaningful, something more than a perfunctory goodbye. Whose hectic life fits his own so well.

 

One night Levi notices a glass on his bedside, an inch of water still floating along the bottom. It’s Erwin’s, leftover from the morning. Levi likes it there in Erwin’s absence, a small sign of life in the apartment that’s only ever felt big enough for one. 

 

He thinks a glass left on the table might be something to fuss at him about later on in their relationship. Levi delights in this, the thought of a later on. 

 

*

 

Levi watches the team’s season end a few weeks later in the divisional round of the playoffs. It comes down to the last play, and his mouth twists behind the camera when Erwin’s pass sails just past the arms of his receiver. Still, the crowd rises to its feet cheering not a moment after the final whistle.

 

Hange and their microphone find Erwin amid the chaos, Levi following closely.

 

“Surely a disappointing loss,” Hange says, “but this is the farthest the team has gone in nine years. You can hear the fans celebrating that right now. How does that feel, looking at next season?”

 

As they’re interviewing, Levi listens to the roar of the crowd. He’s worked here for five years and never heard a season end like this. He can’t help a swell of pride, knowing Erwin’s part of the reason for their surge of hope.

 

“Any plans for the off-season?” Hange finally asks.

 

“Keep working hard,” Erwin says, “stay in shape. But who knows, maybe I’ll even get crazy and relax a little.”

 

Levi bites his tongue. Erwin’s gaze flits to the camera just for a moment, a hint of a laugh in his eyes captured on film.

 

*

 

“Your dad is proud of you,” Levi says, standing with Erwin at the exit of the stadium, all but deserted. 

 

Erwin takes Levi’s gloved hand, eyes tired and undeniably happy.

 

The dazzling flood lights shut off in loud snaps, replaced by soft winter sun. They go home.

 

*

 

The first interview they shot together is rerunning on the local news a few weeks later. Levi, stretched out on Erwin’s couch, holds the remote out away from Erwin when he dives to try and take it.

 

“God, you look good in a suit like that,” Levi sighs. “But your voice sounds weird on TV.”

 

“Thanks. I think.”

 

Erwin settles lightly on top of Levi, resting his head on his chest. Levi mutters a low “ugh” but the warm weight is welcome. He rubs the back of Erwin’s neck with his thumb, working out a small knot.

 

“It’s strange,” Erwin says, voice distant. “Looking at myself then.”

 

Levi lightens his touch, waiting for an elaboration.

 

“I was so stressed about the new season. About proving myself to a new team. Then I got to know you and all that just...I don’t know where it went. You made dealing with the pressure so much easier.”

 

They’re quiet for a moment. Then Erwin takes Levi’s free hand, presses full lips to his knuckles.

 

“Thank you. For everything.”

 

“I didn’t do anything,” Levi says weakly.

 

“You did,” Erwin insists. He holds Levi’s hand to his chest, against his strong heartbeat “But you didn’t have to. Who you are, that’s all I need.”

 

“Sappy much,” Levi says, because he knows it’ll make Erwin laugh. Because his chest is fluttering too much to say anything better.

 

Levi’s never fallen in love before, but he’s learned that some things can’t be denied. So he lets it happen, certain as the changing guard of the seasons.

 

*

 

Winter slides off the deciduous arms of trees in slops of ice water crashing on their hoods. Periodically Erwin ruffles Levi’s hood to clear it off, and smiles through Levi’s grumbles.

 

The quiet on the lake is punctuated by the calls of ducks returning for spring. The morning began with a jog on the loop trail and ended watching the white-light of the March sun on the water, breathing visible puffs into the air on a shared bench. When he was busy operating a heavy camera at work, Levi rarely noticed the way cold slices through the openings in a coat, how close someone had to be before their warmth seeped into his own bones. 

 

Levi sits up, leans his chin on Erwin’s shoulder to check for a clear coast, then settles closer against his side. 

 

“Here,” Erwin says, putting his arm around Levi and drawing him in.

 

“I’m not cold,” Levi says. 

 

The pink and freezing end of his nose ends up around Erwin’s armpit, but he isn’t complaining. He’s starting to warm up along with the rest of their corner of the world. They watch silently as birds test the ice, as a sheet of it melts enough to slide away.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

They both turn at the sound of a woman’s voice. She’s standing on the path with two young kids, both staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at Erwin.

 

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she says. “I was just wondering if we could get a quick picture with you?”

 

“I’d be happy to,” Erwin says. 

 

He and Levi both stand and the kids both run to Erwin’s side, a mix of shy and awed.

 

“Thank you,” the woman says. “You’re my kids’ hero. Oh, do you mind taking it?” she adds, handing a digital camera to Levi.

 

“Good choice,” Erwin says as they all pose. “He’s my favorite photographer, you know.”

 

“Shut up,” Levi mutters, making the kids giggle. 

 

He clicks, capturing four genuine smiles, with a fifth behind the camera.


End file.
